


The past often whispers choices to the future...

by Clocketpatch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2007-12-13
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/pseuds/Clocketpatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the serial Enlightenment, so spoilers for that. You probably don't need to have seen the story to get the jest of what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The past often whispers choices to the future...

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing the Voyage of the Damned advent calendar preview I was inspired to find and watch Enlightenment, and I came across a serious gap between the Doctor being captured and being sent back to Striker's ship with Tegan. This scene was begging to fill it. Hopefully it works.

  
The First Mate and his flunkies pushed and prodded the Doctor and Turlough forward. The Doctor’s arm was sore from being yanked and he could feel the distinct tenderness that pre-existed a bruise in the middle of his back. If only the First Mate would stop poking him! He was quite capable of walking on his own, but his last mention of this fact had gained him a punt in the stomach from the irritable First Mate.

He worried for Turlough being paraded behind him. He knew that the boy was untrustworthy, but he didn’t believe him to be a bad person. There was something darker at work there. The Doctor knew that he had spent the majority of his short life in war and exile; that was enough to turn anyone rough, but his earlier attempted suicide had driven home the boy’s emotional and mental instability.

The Doctor didn’t know how to deal with troubled teenagers. More to the point he didn’t want to. His last attempt at acting as guardian for a minor had met with resounding failure and wasn’t something he was ready to face just yet. Granted Turlough was older than Adric, but he shared many of the same problems.

Perhaps that was why the Doctor put up with all of his badly disguised scheming. It was a chance to redeem his guilt, to save another young man… but Turlough wasn’t Adric. The Doctor registered that when he allowed himself to think about it. That brilliant young mathematician was dead, gone. Turlough though, he had a future, and such grand possibilities as a person if only he could put his past behind him.

As the Doctor was thinking this they were poked and prodded into a new hallway. Captain Wrack stood at the far end. The Doctor put on his sternest face ready to argue against this Eternal for their freedom, but before he could open his mouth Turlough opened his:

“He’s a spy. I saw him wandering around and followed him in.”

The Doctor looked at his young companion. He had such potential, but he was a habitual liar, and greedy, and — afraid. It all fell back to fear. It wasn’t Turlough’s fault what he was, but the Doctor couldn’t help the disappointment showing on his face.

“And what were you doing in there?” the First Mate asked.

“I followed him in,” Turlough said, spinning out the lie.

“And why didn’t you summon help?”

“From where? When you found me I was trying to apprehend him myself.” Lies, lies, lies… The Doctor could see the fear on Turlough’s face. He wondered what the Eternals could read of it in his mind. Would they call his bluff or play along?

“Were you spying on me?” Captain Wrack asked the Doctor.

“Well, I’d hardly call it spying when we’re welcomed as guests and to the freedom of the ship.”

“And you think freedom extends to a door marked Danger?” She smiled and turned to Turlough. “What shall we do with your friend the spy?”

“Get rid of him.” The words fell from Turlough’s mouth in a torrent. Now the Doctor truly was disappointed. He had to remind himself again of Turlough’s upbringing, but it didn’t help. Those four little words had come too easily. He had hoped…

But the boy had tried to kill him before for whatever motives, and the Doctor had — perhaps foolishly — overlooked each of these events. Now his life was being offered trouble free. Turlough wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty, and the force behind his constant murder attempts — whatever it was — would be assuaged.

Perhaps he shouldn’t feel so betrayed.

“Ah,” Captain Wrack said knowingly, “How?” Her face was alight with sadistic anticipation.

“I mean…” there was a war on the boy’s face, and the Doctor waited, hoped and feared, for what he might say. So much potential…

“Send him back!” Turlough amended, “Send them all back to Striker.”

He was sweating. His eyes were wide enough that the white showed all the way around the iris. The Doctor wished he could congratulate the boy on his improved moral fibre, but now he was trying to play the part of hero. Just like Adric…

“And what about you?” Captain Wrack asked, pulling herself, and her ample chest, uncomfortably close to Turlough. She looked like a cat with a fresh caught mouse; full, but ready to inflict pain for the sake of play. The Doctor wanted nothing more than to pull her as far away from the boy and his delicate psyche as possible, but given the situation that was not feasible. Instead he could only stand and watch.

Turlough made a strange choking sound in reply to the Captain’s question. She answered with a booming evil laugh. Turlough flinched.

“I can see your mind,” she said, “All those delicious little tangles. You don’t want me to hurt this spy, but you — Ah!” Her eyes lit up. “You want to hurt him yourself!”

Turlough squirmed. “No, no… I don’t want to… no…”

“Yes,” Captain Wrack said, “Your fear makes everything clear. Your life would be easier if he were dead.”

“I don’t want him to die,” said Turlough.

“Then you can make him suffer, as you have suffered, and in doing so prove your loyalty to me.” Captain Wrack sneered. “Then we will send him back to Striker as you suggested. To reflect on what he has done.”

“I remind you,” the Doctor butted in, disturbed at where this exchange was leading, “That I am a guest aboard your ship, and as such —”

There was a hiccup in his speech as Captain Wrack moved beside him and put an arm around his neck, suggestively trailing her fingers across his chest. He took a deep, gasping breath and continued with increased volume — “and as such I have certain rights which you are —”

His voice stopped. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t access his respiratory by-pass. He couldn’t move. His limbs were cramped to paralysis. Captain Wrack smiled.

“How interesting.” She nodded to Turlough. “Don’t you think this is interesting?”

A strangled noise escaped the Doctor. His eyes widened.

“What are you doing to him?” Turlough demanded.

“A simple tension of the muscles. I gained the idea from your mind in fact. What interesting methods of inflicting pain they had on your planet…” She snapped her fingers. The Doctor fell to his knees gasping. She grabbed his chin tightly in her hand and forced him to look at her face.

“You lost your rights as a guest when you abused your position to commit deeds of espionage. It was very foolish of you. I am Eternal; you are mere Ethereal. I can invade your mind and turn it against you if I so choose, and what a tasty mind it is…”

She let him go, leaving fast-fading red marks down the sides of his face.

“You’re so afraid of losing him, but maybe he never belonged to you in the first place. Maybe it was your fault every time. Maybe if you had paid a little bit more attention and not been so caught up in your self…”

“Get out of my head,” the Doctor gritted from between pressed teeth.

“No, I rather like it in here,” Captain Wrack said, “perhaps I should invite our mutual friend in to have a look around. I’m sure he would love to know what you think of him. Would you like that Turlough? To have a look around?”

“Stop hurting him,” the boy said, “please…” He looked distraught.

“Of course,” said Captain Wrack, “I’m taking all the fun. You want to have a chance at hurting him yourself.” She waved her hand and a cat ‘o nine tail appeared in it. She handed the whip to Turlough.

He took it. Held it a moment, and then threw it too the ground as if it had burned him.

“No! I… send him back to Striker. I don’t have any stomach for these sorts of things, and they’re dreadfully messy.”

“As you say,” said Captain Wrack, “but you will need to develop a stomach if power is what you’re after. Power is never clean, and nothing interesting in life comes without a bit of a mess. Come to my quarters and I’ll show you what I mean.” She patted the still gasping Doctor on the head and then left.

The First Mate grabbed the Doctor’s arm. “On your feet.”

The Doctor looked at Turlough sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” the boy asked, spinning on his heel to follow the Captain.

The Doctor watched him leaving until the First Mate jerked him away. Just a scared boy cut off from his home and running from his past.

“For everything,” the Doctor whispered, “for everything…”

 

 

 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=17573>


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